


Devil’s Standing

by MandalaMoons



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Breeding, Cannibalism, First Loves, Gore, Guro, Love/Hate, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23762980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandalaMoons/pseuds/MandalaMoons
Summary: “This world, loves but humans.”It’s a philosophy that Uta has always understood and lived by. The rules of being a ghoul are very simple to the leader of the 4th ward, eat, or be eaten, kill or quite simply, be killed. But when a stranger comes into the 4th ward and challenges all that Uta believes about himself and who he is meant to be, will he choose a different path, or be the last devil standing?
Relationships: Uta (Tokyo Ghoul) & Original Female Character(s), Uta (Tokyo Ghoul)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter One - Stranger in the Midst

**The Devil Stood**

A Tokyo Ghoul Fanfic

_Disclaimer: I do not own Tokyo Ghoul or any of it’s respective characters. They are property of Sui Ishida and Shonen Jump, etc and their respective owners. Maiko Aki and co however, belong to me._

_Abashed the Devil stood,_

_And felt how awful goodness is, and saw_

_Virtue in her shape how lovely; saw, and pined_

_His loss; but cheifly to find here observed_

_His lustre visibly impaired; yet seemed_

_Undaunted:—"If I must contend," said he,_

_"Best with the best, the sender, not the sent,_

_Milton. Paradise Lost_

**Chapter One - A Stranger in the Midst**

_Piss Alley - Eastern Shibuya_

The scent of food stalls and blaring lights of eastern Shibuya are as usual, a bustle of activity, even now, even at this time of night. Men, mostly drunk and on their way home from work outings and bars stumble about in lacksidasical circles, singing, their arms around their brethren in comradery. Some, are heading home, eager for the comfort of their wives, while others peer at the brightly lit signs bearing the faces of the young women in the image clubs, advertisements for soaplands and other seedy advertisements.

Paper lanterns lope across the tiny alleys cram packed with vendors and the streets are busy, a little quiet, and they move easily past the blond young man in their midst. He wears a pair of circular sunglasses, that do just enough to hide his visage and he ignores a drunken couple, laughing gleefully as the woman just barely brushes his shoulder. He’s dressed fashionably enough to fit in with the latest teenagers, sporting a black coat with a wide collar that covers his jaw. His blond hair too, is pushed back with a headband and a few pins, and he sports an easygoing smile as he saunters through the streets.

There are a few men and woman though, just a few that avert their eyes at the sight of him, there are even a bolder number of them who nod respectfully, and step out of his path. He is only fifteen years old, and yet those few who step away do not do so lightly.

He moves boldly past them, boots splattering in the wet pavement, ignoring the scent of charcoal and yakitori that makes his stomach curl. 

He weaves in and out of the crowd with a practiced elegance, until he reaches his target, a small, slightly battered stall bearing all manner of knickknacks. Glittering bags hang on an old lamp,and several sunglasses sit on the table on a dusty red cloth. There is a small stand of beaded bracelets, each color said to attract different things into one’s life such as money or luck. The blond is drawn to a shimmering black bracelet, and he thumbs the tag with a finger, belaying chipped black nail polish. 

“Ah,” he says, voice surprisingly velvety and polite despite his features. “This one doesn’t seem to have a unique property, Orochi-san.”

The man backing the stall is small, a little shorter than the blond teen, though his aged arms are muscular and firm. His dark eyes, crows feet along the edges peer up at the teen wryly.

He takes the black bracelet and peers at the tag, flipping it over to gaze at it pensively.

“Mm.” Orochi says, voice gravely and he peers at Uta out of the corner of his rich black irises. “It can be a protective band...or perhaps...it will introduce you to your destiny, Uta-sama.”

The blond scoffs, though the use of the formal honorific with his name makes his mouth quirk in a slight smile. “You believe in fate old man?”

Orochi offers him another smile. “Could be, could be..after all, how unusual you come to me, and pick this bracelet, ask me it’s meaning, and now you are enriched.”

Uta snorts, “Man, do you work all this mumbo-jumbo on your customers?” He seems to ponder something for a moment, then shoves his hand in his pocket.

“How much?”

“Two thousand, one hundred and fifty five yen.”

Uta sucks his teeth, staring down Orochi with a bland, almost cool look. The shopkeeper does not back down and for a moment they consider eachother, the older man staring at him as if daring him to call it highway robbery.

“Fine.” Uta says after a moment, “Even if it is a high price for destiny or whatever.”

He slides the money towards the shopkeeper, watching as he pockets it, then hands Uta the trinket. The beads gleam in his hand, and he slips it on his wrist along with a few other bands and bangles.

_It’s nice,_ he thinks to himself, the way it catches the light. _Why, it’s almost like-_

“Uta-sama!” A voice calls, and he’s startled almost rudely from his thoughts.

A big burly man stands before him, much more muscular against Uta’s own frame. He wears a wife beater and has several tattoos going up and down his arms. He looks perturbed though, and bows almost deeply towards the fifteen year old, a trembling dopey reverence in his tone.

“There’s issues Uta!” He blusters, and Uta notes with amusement the way a faint pink rises up his thick neck.

“Hmm?” He says, feigning disinterest. He’s too busy adjusting his new bracelet to care about the man before him and he twists it to and fro, even taking a moment to remove it once or twice to place it in between a few of his other bangles.

_A contrast is important after all._

“I said, there’s issues,” He repeats, dumbfounded “Another ghoul, encroaching on territories.”

Another one of their kind? Well, that was interesting, but only slightly.

“Another ghoul?” Uta asks, voice silken and curious. His sunglasses appear to gleam for a moment, and the burly hooligan faulters as if he’s said something perhaps offensive.

“Couldn’t one of you take care of it?” Uta asks softly.

It was after all, Uta’s business to know what went on in his ward, the area of Shinjuku was his territory, vast and bustling though it was. Only the strongest ghouls could make it here. The population of humans was large in number, and it was harder to keep feeding hidden and on the down low.

Ghouls were the apex predator, though they often hid in the shadows and allowed humans to believe in their rank as the top dog of the foodchain. Food meant life, and that meant killing human beings like lions hunted gazelle. However, humans weren’t gazelle, and had their own survival mechanisms. They outnumbered ghouls something like one hundred to one, and it wasn’t wise to boast of their status when they could be picked off so easily. Humans too, had their own weapons against ghoulkind.

The ghoul before him was Yamamoto, who lived with his partner Shinji, at least, Uta assumed they were partners. Whatever, that wasn’t his business. The two of them were large, hulking, and surely they could defend at least something without his help.

“That’s just it, Uta-sama,” Yamamoto says, “They keep disappearing! We stayed up all night, set a trap with some meat, and they came and stole it right under our nose. Looked like an animal, a big furry neck and a mask...a mask with big huge teeth!”

The word mask caught his attention, and his brow furrows sharply. Uta fancied himself a bit of a maskmaker, and he knew he had not ever made a mask with teeth, though the thought sent a strange hum in his chest. 

“Mm. I guess I’ll check things out.”

* * *

Uta’s footsteps are light on the greasy pavement of the Shinjuku neighborhoods. The scent of urine stings his sensitive ghoul nose, but he continues on, making his way through the twisting and turning backstreets. His ears prick at the sound of a couple fighting, the crash of a beer bottle against brick, but that’s not what he’s concerned for.

Droplets spray about his leather boots as he steps in a puddle, and he stops, sniffing lightly, he can smell the scent of blood, the iron tang like the sweetest grilled meat and he licks his lips unconsciously. The scent is mixed in with Yamamoto and Shinji’s own, and a low rumble of discontent makes his way out of his throat.

Uta pauses, turning to his left and striding smoothly down into the alleywaytowards the back of some shoddy apartments. There’s a spilled trashcan that he steps over, careful. Already his eyes are picking up on the sight of a small, hunched over figure in the darkness, a body too.

Blood pools from the body, collecting in rivuluts where the pavement is damp and Uta watches it with all the interest of watching paint dry.

He sips the air with his tongue, letting it dart forward to caress his lip ring, and he can taste the particulates of blood as the offender wrenches an organ free. They lift their mask, obscured by the darkness and take a few bites, nearly gagging at the taste and Uta’s brow furrows.

They are surely another ghoul, Uta can tell by the scent. It’s soft, and perfumes the air, feminine, but why would they react so strongly to food? The little sounds coming from her mouth almost seemed to be disgusted. Most ghouls Uta had known all but had an orgasmic reaction to feeding, especially if it had been a while. _Strange_.

The lamp light flickers on, humming annoyingly above him, and he leans forward, trying to get a better look at the feeding stranger who’d encroached on Yamamoto’s territory, practically in his backyard. It was bold, or very foolish.

They wear a fur lined cloak in a purple color, the fur brown and a little matted with old blood. Seemed to be why it was thought to be an animal. She lets out a little growl, attempting to tug the gristle free from her meal. Her head shakes a little bit like a dog, and it makes him laugh.

_Messy one, aren’t you?_ He thinks.

Soon though, Uta grows bored with the ghoul, wondering if they’re just unobservant or obtuse. Surely one who was powerful would notice him standing there watching them?

His laughter hadn’t been exactly quiet or contained, and yet still this little creature was picking at her food like a small child. He almost wants to roll his eyes as she takes another piece of food, sulky noises coming from her lips as she laps at her fingers.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to finish your food?” Uta sneers, voice bouncing off the walls of the alleyway.

To his amusement though, the little ghoul lets out a startled squawk of surprise and drops the appendage she had been picking at for the last several minutes. In her haste, the mask falls forward covering her expression and she turns to stare at Uta.

As Yamamoto had told him the mask was a startling flash of fangs, on a classic kitsune mask. The clean crisp white of it is smeared with blood, and for a moment, they gaze at eachother.

The fox faced ghoul stands, little knees wavering uncertainly, and Uta watches her through the top of his sunglasses. His own eyes are the trademark black and red of a ghoul, and as expected it seems to surprise her. She lets out a strange little hiss at the sight of him, then scampers up the side of a water pipeline, half slipping down before clumsily scurrying up to the rooftop.

_Yeah, no way she was a strong ghoul._

Stepping forward hesitantly, Uta surveys the damage on the deceased human. Organs are pulled out, splattering over the kneesand onto the pavement, as if they were searching for something, the tasty morsels of fat are disgarded plainly, as is some of the softer more rotund meats.

_A picky eater._

The thought makes him scoff sharply. There was no room to be picky in a world such as theirs, especially not in his territory. Wasteful. Appraisingly, he bends down, plucking an eye from the socket and pops it into his mouth as if it is a particularly lovely candy.

Chewing thoughtfully, Uta saunters away, and unbeknownst to him, the little fox faced ghoul watches, gripping the edge of the building as the powerful blond moves away from her.

“You smell...like _touchan_...” She says quietly, voice musical.

Uta does not hear her.

Hunger has become a dull ache in Uta’s stomach the next afternoon and he’s unusually short with a few other ghouls who circle around him like a pack of scavengers. Sometimes when he feels generous, Uta will share with them, and sometimes he won’t.

He perches on the edge of a building watching the sun with a thoughtful gleam in his eyes, a tattered sketchbook with half the cover missing on his knee.

The page is littered with sketches of fangs and teeth, and even a few of the fox mask that had haunted his dreams the night before, and now he chewed on the thoughts of it like a particularly juicy string of meat.

_It was unusual._

_So vivid._

He’d only really gotten a glimpse of it, not long enough before the creature had skittered away.

In the 4th ward, only Uta really made masks for the ghouls who ran amongst him. It was both a hobby, and his pride, and to see such a new mask, quite unlike anything he’d really ever seen before, something about it got his pulse absolutely racing. He clicks his tongue, putting the sketchbook away in his satchel, and stands, stretching languidly like a cat.

He could research it, maybe take a peek at the local library and study some of the designs he saw.

Hunger gnawed at his belly, but the blond ignored it, leaping down from the rooftop with a practiced finesse.

He lands easily onto the pavement, relaxed, nodding in greeting to the few ghouls who seem to catch Uta’s eye. He’s quiet, hands stuffed in his pockets as he makes his way towards the epicenter of Shinjuku towards the library.

As he walks, Uta thinks about colors, the splash of the blue sky against the dull grey of the 4th ward’s buildings. The vivid red of blood on the pavement, the rich, royal purple of that girl’s cloak, the white gleam of that weird animal mask. It was a funny thought, the way that white had drawn his eye, rather than pushed it away.

So far, in his maskly pursuits, Uta had tried to keep things understated. His own mask, was a brown color, and he often kept his cohorts masks black or some other neutral shade, but this one was almost sparkling in the way it pulled the eye. Uta found it almost intriguing.

_Could ghouls afford to draw attention to themselves in such a way? It would certainly aid the capture or elimination of said ghouls eventually, but if one were strong enough..._

There was a vivid flash of orange and Uta startled as another ghoul clapped his back, almost overtly rude in her tone.

“U-Chan!~” She says affectionately and Uta allowed himself a small smile.

“Mm, Itori-san. Afternoon.” He responds.

Itori was his best friend, a bright, red haired ghoul, with a penchant for sticking her nose where it did not belong and was a useful informant. She always seemed to be in the know about everything that underwent the 4th ward and as usual did not delay in sharing any of this with Uta.

“Heard our ward is haunted!” Itori says, her tone all but bubbling over.

“Haunted? That would certainly be quite interesting,” Uta responds, keeping the same pace as before. It forced Itori to walk a little faster, and the thought of that makes him smile just a little.

“Yes! A little thief in the night, stealing meals and disregarding territories.” She burst out with a girlish laughter, and Uta was certain the idea of such a thing amused Itori to no end.

“Ah, yes, I’m...” Uta fell silent for a moment.

_What exactly was he doing about the situation?_

Last night, he had not exactly taken care of anything, merely watched the newcomer with a hint of facination on his usually expressionless features.

_That white._

_So bright._

“I’m researching.” He says finally. 

Itori doesn’t look at all satisfied with that information, and she prods his cheek playfully with a gleaming red nail.

“And what has the great Uta found out?” Her voice is playful, lilting, and it makes the color rise up in Uta’s cheeks unbidden. He knocks her hand away with his own, straightening his jacket.

“It’s a ghoul.” He says, though his tone is uncertain, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl?” Itori all but squeals, “Ooh, now that certainly does raise up interesting questions doesn’t it?”

She begins to babble on, but Uta doesn’t hear her. The scent of blood is suddenly overwhelmingly strong, the sharp tang of old meat and fresh, mixing together in a cacophony of scents. Then a warm, familiar smell that swoops seductively into his nose.

Uta bristles, and Itori falls silent, watching the leader of the 4th ward with curious interest. Uta’s black sclera seems to widen until the red of his pupils are mere pinpricks in the sea of darkness.

A low, reverberating hum starts in his throat, almost a vacant growl.

“U-san!” She says, tapping him lightly. “What’s up with you.”

“Nothin’” Uta says, voice sharp. “I gotta go.”

Itori shrugs mildly, watching the other ghoul turn his heel. He was such an enigma, but she can’t help that the thought makes her smile.

Uta’s friend is already forgotten as the smell seems to waft up, and further infuriate the ward leader. He knows exactly what it is, and has a sneaking suspicion that he knows who it is as well.

He strides back through the streets and alleyways, taking a sharp turn near an old bike shop and stops, staring at the wooden doors of the abandoned warehouse.

Uta’s own territory was expansive, stretching down four blocks, but this warehouse was what he affectionately thought of as his epicenter of activity. He’d found the building a few years ago, and had made it into a home of sorts, a place where he could think, be alone.

**_Everyone in the 4th ward knew not to come here._ **

_Everyone **except** the thieving newcomer._

The thought was infuriating to him. His scent was all over this place, and by now, that was warning enough to keep other ghouls at bay. He snorts, and his teeth snap down hard.

_The little **bitch** was stealing from his storeroom._

Uta kept a large freezer full of food, a safety precaution if you will. The 4th ward was crawling with ghoul exterminators and was heavily populated with humans.

_I will never starve._

The thought comes unbidden to him, sharp and jagged in the back of his mind, only serving to further slide down his spine. His kagune bubbles below the surface, begging to be stretched, but he shakes himself free of the thought, moving forward to open the stale wooden doors.

They open with a creak, like a gasp for air, and sure enough Uta can see the sight of fur, a purple cloak hunched over the corner of the room.

Already, the little ghoul is digging through his freezer. To the freezer’s left is a nearly half eaten...no eaten was not the right term, rather annihilated human figure. lay slumped and propped up against a trashcan. Both legs are gone, and the chest is torn open, organs and viscera surely missing. Legs were strewn across the black and white checkerboard tiles, seemingly haphazardly tossed aside after a bite or two. 

It was a kill he’d made earlier in the week. The warehouse was chilly enough to keep the meat cool, and Uta hadn’t gotten around to packing and placing in the cooler, and now, this little pest was making quite a mess of his work.

She was rummaging through the frozen goods, muttering beneath her mask. He’d had things ordered and arranged, but the sound of the packages knocking about meant that she was messing that up too.

Uta stands in the doorway, watching the ghoul, filled with a mix of irritation and simple confusion. What exactly was up with this weird little ghoul? Ghouls had preferences sure, but she seemed to be snubbing everything, as if she’d never eaten before and had no clue what she liked or preferred

The sound of meat hitting the ground awakens something in him, and he lunges forwards snatching at the ghoul’s ankle.

He hears a startled yelp, and he drags her forward. Her chin knocks against the ground, and he can here the sound of her mask hitting the ground with the dull clunk of wood.

_Ah, so it’s wooden_. He thinks to himself, filing away the thought in the back of his mind.

Her nails dig fruitlessly, scrabbling against the tile, as if she can hope to stop her ascent towards him. In a sickeningly fluid motion he twists her hip, forcing her to turn around.

The stranger attempts to sit up, and force him off of her, but Uta is quicker, stomping down on her chest with a steel toed boot. The little creature gasps beneath the mask and Uta smirks, a tongue going out to dart against his lip like some kind of feral reptile.

“Let’s see what you’re hiding, why don’t we?” Uta asks silkily.

Straddling her waist, Uta yanks the wooden mask away with rough fingers, but before he can really get a good look at her there is a blinding flash of pain along the side of his cheek.

Startled, the ward leader leaps backwards a hand moving to his flesh. Crimson stains his fingertips, and he stares at it.

**_So vivid._ **

“So,” he says, more to himself than anyone else, “You fancy yourself tough shit, do you? Stealing around my ward? This place is mine.”

The ghoul’s kagune has unfurled, a long shimmering tail, a closed bulb on the end. Uta’s eyes slide up to her face surprised to see that it’s a fairly young looking ghoul.

Her face is round, with a surprising youthfulness. She doesn’t carry the harshness that most of the other teenage ghouls around here do, the ache of the realization that the world loves but humans, and they are in the way.

Uta however, places his hands in his pockets, raising an eyebrow.

“You really want to fight me?” He asks, voice silken.

The ghoul’s eyes dart towards the body and she lunges for it, surely trying to make off with at least a bit of food.

Uta though, is far too quick for her. He allows her to take a fistful ofgore when his hand clasps around her hair, yanking her back by it.Her knees slam onto the tile and he drags her back.

“This, is mine,” he whispers in her ear, “Everything in this ward belongs to me. You got that? Mine.”

He throws her down, and knocks away the shimmering tail that tries weakly to swipe at him. For such a sneaky little bitch, she’s not at all good with that kagune of hers.

Uta tosses her to the floor as if discarding a wrapper for a particularly benign piece of candy, then places a steel toed boot firmly between her shoulder blades, shoving her down over and over as she tries to weakly get up again.

“Mask,” she breathes out, “Please, my mask.”

“What?” Uta sneers, “This _cheap_ thing?”

He laughs, watching her squirm beneath his boot, struggling in vain to get out from under the 4th ward’s leader.

He flips the mask over. It’s skillfully made, far better than his own skills, not like he would tell the other ghoul that though.

“It’s not,” she mumbles, trying in vain to push herself up by her forearms.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her kagune, slithering along the side of his hand, attempting to grasp at the mask. Uta tosses the mask to the ground again, provoking a musical clatter along the floor.

Instead, Uta grabs the end of her kagune with the fluttering bulb. Digging his fingers into the harsh flesh, he watches her squirm weakly beneath him. In a quick, fluid motion, he _tears_ the bulb from the skin, causing the delicate tendons to snap and flick blood alongside his chest and cheek.

The ghoul beneath him lets out a bloodcurdling screech, twitching and scrabbling beneath him, her tail whipping wildly with abandon now.

Uta tosses the bulb up with a hand, then lets it splatter to the ground, the flesh becoming grey and jellylike as it looses its elasticity.

She’s twitching dully beneath his foot, and he steps aside, kicking her hard in the gut. Blood splatters from her mouth, and Uta snorts. So much for someone interesting.

“You’re a real dummy,” he mutters, as if it’s all a mere inconvenience rather than a true fight.

Kneeling down, he lifts her up by the hair, forcing her to look at him. Blood smears down her jaw and lip, and Uta clucks. However, his amusement is short lived when he notices the sheen of her eyes.

He tilts her head back, peering at her face. She has grey eyes. Unusual color, especially for a Japanese girl.

“What?” He sneers, “You some kind of _hafu_?”

She says nothing, her eyes darting downward, submissive enough for Uta and he releases her.

He ignores her tiny whimpers as he moves past her, staring at the carnage and mess in his hideout.

“What a fucking _mess_.” He says, though it’s more to himself than to her. Uta strides over to the fridge, carefully looking through the packaged meat. Some are torn open, bites missing from the flesh, some, he sees with disdain, have half chewed meat that’s been spit out.

He plucks a half chewed piece of meat from a formerly packed human thigh, and pops it in his mouth. A rush of flavor spools into his mouth, and he laps at his bloodied finger lazily.

It tastes totally fine to him, good even.

“Dunno who you think you are,” Uta says softly, rewrapping the meat in the parchment, “Wasting food like this.”

He goes over the mess, carefully repackaging what the ghoul has damaged. He supposes he’ll just eat the leftovers she’s ruined, and haphazardly reorganizes the fridge to the best of his abilities. He’ll mop the floors later, or maybe convince an underling to do so.

After a while, the sun begins to set, bathing the warehouse in orange, radiant hues. Uta peers at the body slumped in the corner, utterly desecrated. It’s been torn and ravaged by both fingernails and teeth marks, and he scoffs, contemplating what to do with it.

There’s a weak squawk behind him, almost like a baby animal, and Uta’s brow raises, as he turns.

The female ghoul is trying to get up to stand, to leave his hideout. But she’s struggling emmensely. Her tail is limp along the ground, and Uta notes the bulb has not regenerated. As a matter of fact, it doesn’t seem like she’s regenerated at all, and she limps a few feet forward, before toppling again. Her hand is outstretched towards the bloodied, wooden mask, and Uta rolls his eyes.

“Wow.” Uta says, “You’re **pathetic**.”

Still though, he looks thoughtful. The bits of meat that she seemed to discard were fatty, too much cartilage. While Uta himself relished the sweetness of any kind of food, he frowns. This human had been fit, though his thighs and arms had a little too much fat.

Tongue poking out to caress his lip ring, Uta plunged his hand into the chest of the corpse, the sound sickening and removed the heart. It was pliable still, and meaty. _Good enough_.

He tosses the heart where it lands with a sickening squeltch on the tile floor. His victim’s grey eyes flicker up to him, and he shrugs.

“Eat that. Should be up to your liking. I got stuff to do, you’re not out when I come back, I’ll kill you for real.”

As Uta steps out into the darkening Tokyo night, the sound of teeth sinking into flesh break the silence, like a human crunching into a delicious apple. He waits for it, for her to toss it aside, but she doesn’t.

Unbidden, a smile comes to his face, tongue darting out to sip the nighttime air.

“See ya.” Uta says, leaping into the night with nary a thought for the other ghoul.


	2. Pests and Pestilence

_**Chapter Two - Pests and Pestilence** _

The streetlight is flickering, and the fireflies nestle towards it, hungry for the golden light they cannot ever seem to reach. Uta’s face is covered in blood, and he knows better than to let up, even though he finds the streetlight maddeningly distracting.

A heady tongue darts out to taste the spray of blood on his lips and he feels a sudden shiver of excitement as he stares at the other male, watching with bated breath as he steps back, disoriented. He falls back into the crowd of ghouls, and they jeer, pushing him back towards his opponent.

It happened every so often, a challenger would arrive, and Uta would have to strike them down. He’d won the fourth ward fairly enough, had beat the former ward leader, and he knew better than to allow someone to take his place.

It wasn’t personal, it was survival and this was just that.

Simple survival, nothing more,

The circle of ghouls seems to radiate energy, eagerly calling out for Uta to do various things to the other boy, one remark asking Uta if he tastes like a dream particularly makes him smile, though this kid wasn’t his type. Scruffy, with shorn black hair and eyes so dull that the blonde knows that they would not have much in common.

Best to end this one quickly.

Uta circles the other ghoul with a quiet, easy confidence that comes from years of living on the streetsThe boy focuses on him, black ink moving through his dark eyes and casting them in a red shade.

_Oh?_

There’s determination there, but also inexperience, and Uta moves forward quite suddenly, snapping his jaws teasingly at the contender, who startles, falling into the crowd who cheer loudly, then push him back into Uta’s waiting fists

He bites, managing to take a small piece of the boy’s cheek as roars out in pain. The rush of RC cells floods Uta’s senses, and it’s that he focuses on, rather than the taste of bitter ghoul fat and tendons.

He unfurls his kagune as he hits the pavement this time. He’s saying something, yelling, but Uta does not care to listen, noting with disappointment that the ghoul only has a Koukaku and a rather unwieldy one at that. 

“The second you challenged me, you were going to die,” Uta calls out.

Anger contorts the other teenager’s face, he curses and spits at Uta, almost furious enough to cry.

_That was good!_

_That was exciting!_

So caught up in the thrill of this sudden emotion. The other ghoul leaps forward. slashing Uta’s face with a sudden strike, the feeling is familiar and he stops, staring at the red droplets that seem to float before his eyes. People kept seeming to get his cheek lately.

His eyes note the little ghoul perched on the edge of one of the fire escapes. She’s further back than the others, a mark of her status among them. She had fought Uta and lived, and from what he had heard, the others avoided her, under the false assumption that she was strong. But, without acceptance from Uta himself, she existed in a grey area, there, but not one of them.

Everyone is hushed and silent as Uta watches the other ghoul. They circle one another like rabid dogs, the challenger speaking vitriol, and Uta simply watching him. The tension in the air is palpable, and the ghouls around them murmur in anticipation

Uta is growing bored with this. The young ghoul spits at him and he feels the rich warmth of disdain in his throat. The ward’s leader no longer feels the desire to play and lunges forward, latching onto the boy’s neck like some sort of rabid dog. The others watch gleefully as he shakes his head violently, tearing the arteries in his neck as a spray of blood hits the concrete with a sickening splash.

The ghouls around him cheer, and he rewards them by spraying the remainder of the blood from his mouth as they fall onto the offender, eager to eat and gain more strength. Uta’s not exactly hungry, though before the others have a chance, he rips a side of ribs away from the boy’s bleeding corpse and saunters away from his squabbling pack. There are a few children near the outskirts, a little beyond the thieving fox. And Uta crouches downwards, beckoning them forward.

They are for certain Donato’s brood and he recognizes one of them as a former member of the fourth ward. Their clothing is clean...ish, and the pang of annoyance Uta feels is short-lived when he notes the scent of soap as the familiar child scampers close to him.

“Hey there, Oda,” Uta says not unkindly, kneeling down before the boy. Oda beams at him, then smiles back at the others, far too scared of Uta to move forward. Oda is clearly the bravest of them. Figures. Kids from the fourth ward saw a lot, saw too much to fear even someone like him.

“Why don’t you take this?” he says proffering the slab of meat to the child. He cradles it in his hands as if it is more valuable than gold or silver, and to a ghoul...it honestly is.

“Share Oda,” Uta instructs, watching the boy totter towards the other children who stare at the food with wide eyes and then back at Uta. He doesn’t smile, but he offers them a little wave, pleased when one of the unknown children waves back at him.

He watches them disappear down the backstreet, hands in his pockets.

“Was nice ‘a you.” The fox says, and Uta glances up at her disdainfully. She wasn’t wearing her mask today, and her grey eyes look serious, almost studious as she takes in the sight of him.

For a moment, Uta contemplates how one of those pearlescent grey eyes would taste, he could practically pop one between his teeth, thick and gummy, luxuriate in the bitterness that only ghoul flesh could have.

“If you hoped for a meal, you missed your chance,” Uta sneers, “The rest of them are gonna have that kid picked clean. Sucks to be hungry, doesn’t it?”

“Ya know tha’ kid wasn’t much older than the small one ya jus’ gave food to.”

Her accent was so vexing, and Uta ground a small stone beneath his boot. “Why don’t you go back to whatever backwoods place you came from, ya?” He snaps.

Her plump cheeks turn an ungainly red, and Uta realizes with thinly veiled pride that he’s flustered, perhaps even wounded her.

 _Good_.

“Well, for yer inf-“

The scent of a stronger ghoul catches them both by surprise, and Uta’s gaze snaps upwards to take note of the man in the vicar’s robes. He waits by the edge of the alley, hands behind his back, and Uta offers him a curt nod.

“Go home,” Uta says sharply.“Is that like, yer dad or somethin?”

If you don’t go home,” Uta responds moving towards the priest, “I’ll rip off your fingernails.”

She squeaks, though the noise is almost humorous. Uta ignores her, moving towards the man with casual confidence, though he tries hard not to move too quickly and give away his excitement.

“Uta-san,” Donato’s voice is silken, sliding through the damp alleyway like a serpent, and it makes the ward leader shiver with dark anticipation. He has known the man since childhood, looked at him almost as a surrogate father, and yet he cannot help but feel the faintest sense of awe, perhaps even fear.

“Father Donato,” Uta says. His tone is almost respectful, and his dark eyes take in the sight of the man. The priest’s eyes, however, darken and he takes in the sight of the fox, looking at her with something akin to a pang of hunger.

It makes Uta uneasy.

However, he shakes this off, “Don’t mind her. She’s...she’s nothing.

Like a viper, Donato’s gaze darts back to Uta, fixes on him. The eyes dilate and focus and for a moment they stare at one another. Something about it feels territorial.

Then, the priest shakes his head, laying a spiderlike hand on Uta’s shoulder. He is certain that if his shoulder was bare, Donato Porpora’s hand would feel like ice. But, Uta knows better than to shrug off the man’s gesture.

“Come,” he says, an air of quiet dignity. “Walk with me, Uta.”

Uta follows in the taller man’s wake, the whip of his vicar’s robes almost musical as he turns.

The blond turns his head sharply, gazing at the girl who stares after them. For a brief moment, he feels a sudden sharp rage at the mere sight of her. Oddly, she seems to sense this, and skitters down the fire escape, moving towards the remaining pack of ghouls to pick off what little meat there was left.

A true scavenger. Uta thinks derisively.

But then he is caught by a scent in the wind, the faintest scent of meat, and he notes the boy Oda and his little clan of children, curious to see the ward leader again. He, however, does not come close to Donato.

Uta does not blame him.

Donato was one of Uta’s earliest memories. He had been an orphan...for a long time. The story was not unique among their species, and so he didn’t want to dwell on it for a long period of time. To stay in the past, to stay there with his brother and sister. That was pointless.

He’d gotten his revenge for it though, had taken everything that ghoul had owned, cradled his revenge in the confines of his teeth. It had been Donato’s careful, thoughtful instruction that had led the blond to this point, and Uta owed him for that and forgiveness of a thousand of his own sins.

“The children will appreciate the meat for a stew tonight,” Donato says, his tone brisk.

He looks out of place with his tall European features and the billowy black robe that trails behind him. There is a small shop just ahead of them, and the fluorescent lighting casts a strange pallor to the man.

“Have you decided on what you’ll do with that boy?” Uta asks.

“ _Amon_.” Donato corrects, though he refuses to say more.

They walk in silence, watching the children a few feet ahead, stopping near the abandoned church that remains just along the outskirts of the ward. For many of those in the fourth ward, this place was home, simply until it wasn’t.

The church is covered in ivy and peeling white paint though it has gone yellow with age and smog. One stained glass window is broken, a product of Uta’s youth in the orphanage.

It had been in the ward for eons, since before he could remember. While catholicism had not been a huge religion in Japan, as far as he was aware, but the priest had been a near-constant fixture in his life. After he had lost his own siblings, Donato had taken him in.

Uta was one of the few ghouls in the orphanage, it made sense. They had to be careful, not raise suspicion after all. Any messes Uta made, Donato had covered up.

However, once the boy had arrived, there had been a shift and Uta had wormed his way free.

He’d always had a gift for knowing when it was time to bail after all.

They entered the church, through the back end, which leads right to the kitchens. Of course, this was not to raise suspicions about what with the mass of human ribs Oda was carrying. There was an older child waiting, a girl.

She takes in Uta’s appearance, and he glances away pointedly, silently propped against the crumbling wooden doorway, shards of wood digging into his spine.

Donato gives her careful instruction on how he would like her to prepare tonight’s meal, and the children gather around, eager to help.

After a moment, Donato’s spindly hand sits on Uta’s shoulder and he beckons the boy down the musty maroon hallway and into a yellowed office.

There is a rather industrial looking desk from the seventies and a few framed certificates, some in Japanese, but others in the blocky harsh Russian words Uta knew was the man’s mother tongue.

It smells like old paper and books, and the blonde ghoul had spent more than enough time being scolded, or ‘helping’ out in this place.

For a brief moment, he feels a stab of gratefulness that he has his own place now, and contemplates what he will do after this.

The thought of finding a man to share his bed is indeed tempting, and for sure, would make a decent meal after. Yes, that would suffice him well enough.

Uta sighs, watching Donato move around the old office. He says something about preparing a cup of coffee for them both, but Uta does not hear him. There are various religious artifacts sitting on the walls. One, in particular, a large crucifix that had always caught Uta’s attention was, as usual, distracting.

The sight of Jesus’ bloody hands and feet, an expression of pure agony. The image, the craftsmanship was almost utter magic to him, as he traced the outline of a perfect S curve with his eyes, took note of the muscle tone in the hips and thighs, perfectly accentuated with the barest of indentions in the metal. 

“Sorry. What?” He says after a moment. Donato had been speaking to him, though Uta had not noticed in his moment of study. He now sat before Uta on the other side of the desk, has placed a cup of coffee in front of him. In the past, this impurity would have caused a thin sheet of shame to bubble up in his chest, though now he quells it, pushing it down.

_He’s a member of the Pierrot now too._

_They are equals._

“I asked you if you had noticed the influx of CCG officers in the fourth ward?” Donato says briskly. He does not seem to take offense to Uta’s distraction.

The blonde pursed his lips, slouching back against the wooden chair. It creaks a little under his weight and Uta offers him a noncommital shrug. “It doesn’t matter, not really. They do it often enough, send the young ones here to train, or be disposed of.”

Donato’s cool eyes take in the sight of Uta, and once again they are at an impasse, staring one another down. Donato offers him a small smile, and Uta returns it. “So I take it, you know about Roma?”

Uta’s brow seemingly knits together in confusion. He did not know Roma well. He’d seen her around the 4th ward, and though her appearance would have most mistake her for a small child, the scent that surrounded her was one that sent the hairs on the back of his neck rising, a shiver down his spine.

It was only after the few times that Uta had seen her in the ward after he’d taken his place as the leader that Donato, a ghost from his childhood had appeared.

He’d told Uta of a group of ghouls, the Pierrot, ghouls who wanted to make things better, equal among humans. Donato had said they were the great liberators of ghoulkind. And wasn’t Uta _tired_ of seeing fellow ghoul’s despairing?

To be a ghoul was to suffer, endlessly. But, the Pierrot had given him a way out of that, to push beyond their station in life. To make things fair, to make them at least somewhat justified.

Later, Uta learned that it had been Roma who had selected him, a faint vein of pride pulsating through his chest as he was told.

**_He had not seen her since._ **

Though, that whole thing had only been a few months ago.

Unthinkingly, Uta’s tongue darts out to savor the air, press against the coolness of his piercings.

“Roma is close to being caught I fear,” he states flatly.

Owlish eyes blink at the priest, and after a moment he takes the cup of coffee proffered to him. It’s cool now, and not the best, though it serves to give the ward leader something else to focus on.

“What’re you saying?” Uta asks, “You want me to take care of them before they get to her?”

Donato smiles, absolutely saccharine. Unthinkingly Uta’s eyes narrow, and he resists the urge to show his teeth to the other ghoul in a show of dominance.

He’d never used to feel this way about the priest, but lately, he couldn’t help but feel this way about most other males. There always seemed to be a thin veneer of competition, even when it wasn’t outrightly stated.

“No. I am only keeping you informed.”

Eyes narrowed sharply, and suspicion bubbled up in Uta’s chest unbidden.

“Then why say anything?” The words escaped him before he could stop it, and Donato let out a soft peal of laughter.

“Somethin’ funny?”

Donato waves a hand in front of his face almost absentmindedly, “Ah, to be youthful and eager.”

Something about that unsettled him and Uta let out a snort, rising from the chair. He exited Donato’s office quickly without casting a second glance towards the priest.

The children were eating at the lone wooden table, and Oda beams at him, Uta moved towards him, pausing only to tousle his mousy hair. He seemed to know that Uta was on his way outwards, and a small hand reaches over to tug at the end of Uta’s arm, hand touching the bangle that Uta had only just bought.

“Kid,” Uta says softly, “I gotta go.”

A frown, little mouth bowing beneath the weight of Uta’s sudden departure.

“Stop it,” Uta says, though his heart is not entirely in the words.

He tousles Oda’s hair again pausing. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winks at the child, pleased when he smiles, and then saunters away.

His head is filled with thoughts of Roma, Donato too, and he pushes open the doors, to make his way back outside. Night has settled on the church grounds, and he sighs taking in the scent of the city. Wasn’t like he could do anything about Roma anyway.

There’s just enough fog, and he can hear the buzzing of the fluorescent lights of the grocery store, just across the way.

That was fine.

This, all of it, was fine.

“ _ **Hey**_!”

Unbidden, Uta startles, the veins in his eyes flashing sharply at the sight of the little fox. She’s made her way up in one of the trees outside of the church and the ghoul can’t help but snarl at her. She cocks her head this way and that, and if he hadn’t found her so vexing Uta might have thought it was endearing what with the way the fox mask was perched on the side of her head.

“Whatcha’ doin?” she asks.

That displeasing accent again.

“What am I-“ he sneers, “What are _you_ doing... _ **wait**_. Have you been following me?”

Her shoulders hunch and she springs from the tree, however, she’s miscalculated the force needed, and her ankle catches on one of the branches leaving her like a rather comical version of the hanged man card.

Uta stares at her.

“You’re _weird_ ,” he states plainly.

“No! I’m Maiko!” she says, proffering her upside down hand for him to shake. Uta notes her chipped nail polish and the dirt sticking to her palm and takes another step backward. She frowns.

“Listen, I ah, think we got off on the wrong foot, ya? I’ve been talkin, to a few of the others. They say you’re the ward leader around here, um...I didn’ mean to steal...uh exactly.”

Uta is half caught between exasperation and amusement and very briefly he considers the idea of simply using a hand to expel her head from her body. However, the thought of Oda and the others inside stops him. He does not like to cause the orphanage trouble. Instead, he gazes up at the sky, and mentally counts, trying to resist the urge.

It was a mistake, letting her live though.

Jeez, what a pest

“I don’t care,” Uta says flatly. “Leave me alone.”

“So look!” she says, without skipping a beat.

What was _with_ her? Most ghouls who’d had run-ins with him and lived to tell the tale did their best to stay away, but _her_? She’d actively sought him out. _Followed_ him even.

_The absolute nerve._

He stares at the upside-down girl for a moment, drinking in her appearance, that warm, floral scent. Her fox mask is falling off, and unthinkingly, Uta reaches over to press it back on her face, smirking when he pushes her back, hard enough to make her swing to and fro.

“Oof, hey!” she calls out. However, even as Uta begins to walk away, she is unperturbed by the motion. “So look ya? Is it okay if I stay in the 4th ward?”

Uta cocks his head, blinking at her.

_What was with this little ghoul? Was she always such a masochist?_

“Yeah, _stalker-chan_ ,” he says derisively. “You can stay. You can stay _if_ you manage to stay alive until the next time we meet.”

She calls something after him, but Uta ignores it, thoughts full and dancing in his mind. He’s getting hungry again, and he knows it’s only the kind of hunger a ghoul will satisfy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating this! I’ve decided that Devil’s Standing will be my current July Camp Nanowrimo project, and I’m quite hopeful that it’ll be updated much more frequently now! I’m pretty motivated, and thankfully the entire story is more or less plotted out and I know where I’d like to go with things for the time being! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I really hope you enjoy!


	3. Insatiable

**Chapter Three - Insatiable**

_**Drip.** _

_**Drip.** _

_**Drip**_.

Blood smears delicately on the pale sheets, seeming grotesque as it dots the fabric, marring the faded floral design with all but the most vivid splotches. There are some spots though where it seems to pool, collecting, and coagulating. Uta’s reflection can be seen in these jelly-like puddles, almost inconsistent in the faintest shimmer of the half-broken lamp on the bedside table, casting him in a warm orange glow.

He studies his reflection a moment, able to see the faint glimmer of the smeared gore on his chin. Uta fumbles with the tattered nightstand drawer, always sticky in some places and trying not to wobble it too much. It only had three legs after all, and in place of the missing one was a stack of books he found in the dumpster outside of a now-defunct thrift shop.

It was not all that out of place with the rest of his small apartment, what with it’s cracked ceiling and window unit, walls that once upon a time had probably been painted a pristine white. The landlord, a ghoul knew Uta well, let him pay late if he needed and knew unequivocally that he would always, always be paid.

When he manages to ease the door open, he can’t help but feel a little put out upon the sight that he only has two of his Lucky Strike cigarettes left. It’s here he fishes one out, to place it in his mouth and lighting it with the tea light candle that was on the bedside.

“I suppose I’ll use the sheets to clean you up.” He says to his bed partner.

The boy next to him had been handsome earlier in the evening, a shocking streak of blue in his hair that was just toeing the line of being almost nonconformist. He’d looked at Uta with pretty brown eyes, blushing oh so beautifully when Uta had leaned close enough to kiss and then pull back, shy. Proper.

He looked like the type of ghoul who had it decent, at least one parent still alive. He was from the 24th ward too. Uta’d heard through the grapevine that it was peaceful there, at least relatively speaking.

He’d ceased being attractive though, once Uta had seductively hooked his fingers in the gap of his jawbone mid-coitus and had yanked cleanly. His rinkaku tried to activate but Uta ripped that out too. He didn’t remember much after that, only feeling the thrill of excitement as the headboard became a canvas of Jackson Pollock level proportions.

He committed this routine often enough, seducing partners into coming home with him, then consuming them, sometimes during sex, sometimes before, rarely after. One thing was certain though, no partner would make their way out of his bed and live to tell about it.

He preferred men, sexually at least, liked the way their muscles rippled and mouths could quirk and smirk whenever he said something witty. After all, that was amusing. But, it always ended like the boy beside him.

_“I work in a coffee shop,”_

Uta recalls him saying.

It sent the vaguest pang of regret down Uta’s spine, and he belays it with a sideways glance towards the boy.

Though he could remember his profession, he could not remember the other ghoul’s name.

“Suppose that’s the nature of a one-night stand,” Uta says softly, taking another drag from the cigarette in his fingers. He could go for some coffee right about now.

His own coffeemaker was perched on the small counter space just across from the bed, typical of Japanese apartments and Uta frowned at the crumpled coffee packages all along the bar.

_Nasty._

That would need to be cleaned later, though he was messy in...other aspects, Uta could not stand a cluttered environment, and he notes other parts of the apartment. No dishes in the sink, (when was the last time he’d used a dish?) and cleanly mopped floors.

He ticks mental boxes for a minute, noting what he’ll retrieve from the grocery store later. Bleach, coffee, paper towels maybe, the boy’s wallet was strewn on the bed, next to Uta’s fashionably faded jeans and Uta fished his wallet lazily, noting a decent amount of cash. He must have gotten paid today.

It was the least his bedfellow could do, after all, he could at the very least help him out with tidying.

Unthinkingly, he reaches over to tug a bit of flesh from the eviscerated corpse and raises it to his lips.

Ghoul blood was intense, though sometimes could have a hint of sweetness depending on the state of their body. Arousal sweetened things the most in his experience, and Uta let out a little sigh, swiping at his lip with a delicate brush of his thumb, taking a moment to take a draw off of his cigarette.

He’d salvage what he could. There was a jumble of body parts next to him, and in his own overwhelming elation he’d made more of a mess than usual, the stomach ended up being torn open, most of the organs practically unusable.

Tonight though, he could at least eat the most desirable parts and then end up packing the rest in his hideaway. He curls onto his side, giving a strangely melancholy sigh as he gazes at his unmoving and still companion.

For reasons he did not understand, Uta thought of the little fox, wondering if she had managed to get down from the tree. What if Donato had gotten a hold of her? Would she be tomorrow night’s stew?

_What had she said her name was?_

_Mei?_

_Mai?_

_Ah...no. Maiko._

He could still hear her introduction with that vexing accent of hers, a little out of breath as she hung upside down.

_Silly thing._

Uta tastes the name on his tongue, letting it luxuriate on the first syllable, curling around the softness of it before hitting the second. It was a cute name for a girl, a little old fashioned, and pretty traditional.

He doesn’t like it, the way her name makes him feel, makes his heart slow, just a fraction of a beat, even with the addition of the extra RC cells rushing through his veins.

Frowning Uta exhales the smoke from his lungs in a short burst. He reaches over to tug a bit of flesh free from the corpse, not bothering to see exactly what part of the body it hailed from and bit in.

More food would quell the feelings from his mind, they had to after all.

The bitterness is rich, almost satisfying when the after-breath of sweetness hits the back of his throat and makes him salivate. Already he could feel it, the rush of RC cells springing towards the multiple kakuhou sacks nestled in his back.

The veins along the side of his eye pulsed almost musically. Again, the thought of the girl, of Maiko sprang forth in his mind. He snarls at the knowledge of her, commanding her to leave his brain.

The ward leader thinks of the way that Donato had gazed at her, almost predatory. His skin prickles and he snags another piece of flesh, biting into it with an almost painful gusto.

_That was preposterous._

He didn’t even _like_ girls, at least he didn’t think he did.

For a moment, he can feel the briefest tinge of regret, but another bite of meat quells that too, sends his blood rushing. He’s almost dizzy with the number of cells rushing through his core.

He wants to slow down.

He should slow down, but the confusion racing through his mind is too much to bear.

He’d been comfortable at the thought that he simply favored the company of men, even though most of them ended up dead.

_Wait?_

_Was that weird too?_

His hands twitch and a long cylinder of ash falls onto what is probably the last remaining bit of clean sheet he had left.

_He’d always preferred men._

_But why was he worried now?_

_Why was he worried about some girl?_

Uta did not dislike women at all, found them lovely and beautiful, but they did not excite him, did not send his pulse racing.

_But why now, why did she?_

But, the thought of Donato claiming her as a meal made him uncomfortable. To eat a ghoul was to claim ownership of them in what Uta considered the most vulnerable and exciting.

The way his heart hammered now, kagune rippling in his back, it reminded him of when he had laid eyes on the boy beside him. He felt...

_**NewNEWnewNeW** _

The words fluttered in his brain as he finished off the remainder of the flesh in his grasp.

The ghoul shook his head snarling not unlike a frightened animal.

“Gotta do somethin,” he said, bounding off the bed with quick, lightening steps.

Every inch of him was electrified, buzzing between thoughts of Donato, of the dead boy in his bed, of Maiko.

_**MAIko** _

_**Maaaaaaiiikko** _

His brain wrapped around the curl of her name like a pleased cat, content for the briefest moment, and he snarls again, shaking the thought aside.

_No._

If anyone was going to eat her, it could not be Donato.

It must be him.

Hands coil in bleach blond hair, tugging at it as if he could reach inside the confines of his skull and pull the impertinent thoughts outwards and away from him. They would be as easy to discard as any of his other lovers.

Suddenly, he feels vexed, almost trapped, and frantically lunges over the bed until he is straddling the corpse. Uta digs his painted fingernails into the boy’s chest, peeling away and consuming any part of him that he could reach. He eats furiously, with a wild abandon.

In truth, the sudden bout of possessiveness he felt towards the fox was vexing, but even more so, it was frightening. He’d never felt something so intensely.

_So vivid._

Instinct pushes him to consume more and more, though the very small, very overwhelmed part of Uta’s more rational side begs him to stop. But the desire to feed, to consume would always win a ghoul over.

He only stops when he hits the back of the boy’s spine, and he pants, breathless. His skin is alight again, electric, and his kagune dances in his back, eager to be free, to pierce and jettison willing or unwilling flesh, it did not matter.

Head lolling back, Uta listens for a moment to the sound of the city. The bustle of chatter and perhaps a few birds. He will swear later that he could hear the sound of tree roots beneath the ground, and the sound of running water.

“More.” He murmurs. “I have to have more.”

He wants the taste of copper in his mouth, the thick almost sharp tangy flavor of it. Uta exits his apartment, after dressing haphazardly, not bothering to lock up behind him, he doesn’t have much of value and in his current state, that matters little to him.

Uta had been consuming ghouls regularly, since his early childhood, though only recently had it started to take a toll on him. The RC cells fled through his veins, almost addictive in the way they set his whole body alight. They made him feel warm and in truth, Uta liked feeling warm. It was not something he got to feel often.

_You had it in your childhood, your mother-_

He shakes his head trying to free himself of the thought, though his brain continues almost cruelly.

_You had it with the priest, with Donato-san, but that was over too when he found someone worth more than you._

And wasn’t that why he wanted to be a member of the Pierrot, Donato once said he had potential, whatever that had meant.

_But, Donato had never loved him, not like he loved the human._

_Uta knew when he was not wanted._

The night air is cool, damp on his face, and hazily Uta realizes that it must be the early hours of the night. Almost all of the other apartments, at least those with visible windows have their lights dimmed or off. He shakes the thoughts free, crushes them under a metaphorical heel, and sniffs the air.

Food is to be had, and his mouth waters, making his jaw clamp almost painfully.

But, as the thick, cloying scent reaches his nose, Uta’s head snaps in the direction of the wind, nostrils flaring. His black eyes are almost slits and he grasps at the side of a water pipe, shimmying up it like a strange animal.

That was the thing about cannibalism, about RC cells, after a while, one couldn’t get enough, the deep desire to taste and consume everyone.

Sometimes you did it to stay alive. That was how it started for him

_No._

He lets out a guttural snarl and leaps onto the next roof, combat boots splashing in the lone oil slick puddles and he sniffs the air. The veins along the side of his eyes pulse and he follows the scent almost blindly. His mind is a hum of noise, a thousand wasps. There’s a chaos, a web of words he can’t quite make out, much less his earlier intentions.

The girl, he could not think of her name now, was forgotten, only the enticing scent of blood.

The cannibalism made him almost ravenous for more and as he ran, leaping elegantly from rooftop to rooftop, he could feel the muscles in his jaw stretching and then clamping down.

The suspicious tang came back again and as Uta stopped over the back end of a small convenience store, he saw it, a suspicious briefcase, a fellow ghoul hunched over, surely about to be slain.

“Aww,” his voice was a croon, almost unrecognizable even to him.

“Little dove that fell out of the nest, what do you know?” The investigator is plain, the stereotypical businessman, and Uta licks his lips, lunging towards him.

His kagune stretches cleanly from his back with almost elegant ease and he fights the urge to groan. He did not often use his kagune for fear of raising suspicion or worse, recognition within the ward.

The scales of his Rinkaku ripple and coil around him and he separates the investigator from his briefcase with a sort of carelessness that was almost unbecoming. He smiles at the fear, as he impales an easy fist through the man’s rib cage, grasping at the beating heart with efficiency. He pulls it free, and tosses it aside, rounding on the waiting ghoul, They thought he was a savior. That was funny, and the blond hellion fights the urge to giggle softly.

“Man thought for sure I was-“

“A goner?” Uta asks teasingly.

He doesn’t wait for the other ghoul’s response, collapsing on him as he clamps his teeth around any area he just might be able to reach. A nose, the tender, pale underside of his neck, tearing through the other ghoul’s rib cage with a furious abandon. As the ghoul reaches forward, he can't help but note a small flicker of gold out of the corner of onyx eyes.

It is nothing like what he considers the artistry in which he approached his bedfellow or the superb killing of the investigator, this is all tongue and teeth, the furious scraping of fingernails, and the act of almost squalid overeating.

The ghoul’s screeches die off slowly as the hand that clung to the long collar of Uta’s leather jacket falls limp. His meal's kagune too had protruded from his spine, but so engrossed he was in his act of unartistic murder, Uta did not notice it.

It fell limp on the pavement, and out of the corner of his eye, Uta saw it grey. He was about to reach for it, cradle it in his teeth, but, something was coming down the road, out of their house, or perhaps a hiding place to curiously inspect the noise. A woman. He tenses unwittingly, nostrils flaring wide, like a curious snake.

“Yagami?” Her voice was tender, afraid. She too was a ghoul, but suddenly Uta did not want to be seen, and he leaps up on the edge of the concrete fencing and onto the roof.

His eyes flash, not unlike the same red as an alley cat in the night. He watches the slight tremble of her voice, the way a hand moves towards him. She sags, hands clasping towards his own, and Uta realizes with a sudden, sharpness that she is reaching for his wedding ring.

_So that was the glint I ended up seeing._

_Feeling._

_What was this feeling?_

The dull hum of his blood rushing into his veins subsided just enough for him to make out the question that was pounding into the side of his skull, begging for rapt attention.

It’s almost captivating, the way the woman’s pretty olive skin seems to cling to the bloodied hand of her partner, the way the tears seemed to hang off her nose and capture the scene before him in a rounded miniature.

Their rings match, though the gold of her band was much more pristine.

_He was a hard worker._

These thoughts came to him clearly, even though the overdose of RC cells that he was feeling pulse through his entire body.

His owlish eyes widen and he leans forward on the rooftop, hands skittering, his kagune is begging to be released again, and he can feel the organ pulse easily up his neck stretching towards his left temple.

Hands curl like claws against the roof tiles and he breathes out a soft huff, willing himself not to whimper.

The coil of shame, that had so often been dormant in Uta’s life seemed to rise up with his kagune, fondling the side of his neck and chest with a cloying abandon.

_You are bad._

The voice purrs in his mind,

_Bad._

_Impure._

“Just eat.” He snarls.

The woman glances upwards, trying to see in the thin veil of darkness, cradling the man, her husband towards her.

“Please-“ Her voice is a trembling hum of fear.

Uta does not give her a chance to speak as he leaps down, mouth agape as he tries to silence the sudden spark of feeling that makes him want to suddenly flee from his own skin, peel it away, shed himself like a serpent.

_He wants to be new._

_To be pure._

_To feel warm._

Food was the only way to do that, to become that. The woman looks at him in egregious horror, but he does not care. He is so cold, and he wants to feel warm.

Copper fills his mouth.

* * *

He did not know how long he managed to fling himself from rooftop to rooftop, feasting in a way that was almost painfully gluttonous. At first, the cacophony of voices in his mind would not still, but after the third, and the fourth human, it began to dull. It was like a cavern of bees that seemed to hum and droll amidst his mind.

Teeth sunk into flesh mindlessly, and when there was no more, he simply moved on, covered by the cloak of night. He tires eventually, feet sluggish and he growls, wanting nothing more than for the heaviness of his half-formed kakuja to cease. It was so heavy, so thick.

He is in a neighborhood he doesn’t remember going to, and finally, finally, his kagune ceases. He’d had enough RC cells now, and the thin veneer of anxiety is leaving him.

He does not remember why he came here in the first place.

When the kagune retracts, leaving his dampened face free to the night air he sighs, shakily. Though his jacket had always been ample warmth, he couldn’t help but shiver beneath it. He is cold, exhausted, and slumps against the brick of one of the nearby apartments.

“Jus’ gotta rest a bit,” he slurs. His voice sounds alien to him, and he stretches his mouth oddly, getting used to the freeing sensation without the thick plated armor of his kakuja.

It had never lasted that long before.

He leans against the brick, slumping down and trying to rest his body without letting his mind fall asleep. Head presses against the brick and he groans.

Sitting there for several minutes, listening to the chirping of crickets, he can hear faint heels, the scent of a ghoul awash in the street, but he is too tired to feed, to hunt.

They stop in front of him and he sniffs, “Go ‘way, I’m resting.”

There is a soft, faint cluck, and they say something. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to really understand it or to make sense of the words. They might as well have been speaking Russian, and Uta grunts when he doesn’t sense them going along their way.

“Knock it off.”

Another statement, gentler, the press of a cool hand on his forehead. The touch reminds him of being sick in the orphanage, Donato’s furrowed brow. He had taken care of him, hand-fed him.

At that moment. Uta had loved him.

“Can’t have that no more.” He slurs. The ward leader did not mean to say that aloud.

Oops.

Another hand, easing him up, gentle words.

“Didn’ know you cared so much, Dona-san.” He sounds drunk, tired, and he tries not to loathe himself for the apparent weakness he is showing.

Gentle words now, a press of his cheek on silk.

They are guiding him inside, easing him to a sofa. They sit him there, motioning for him to lay down, to lay back even as he tries to argue. His vision is blurry, blood crusting his eyelashes and cheeks.

Finally, though, he allows himself to hit the back of the pillow and they wipe at his face with a damp towel, clearing him of at least some of the blood on his cheek.

“Thanks, Priest.” He mumbles blearily.

A hand on his forehead, the brush of a warm, perfumed blanket on his skin, and for a moment, Uta is safe, he is soft and warm.

He is a child, and Donato still loves him.

Uta came to slowly, aware of the bright fluorescent lights, even beneath his closed lids, the sound of a cork sliding out of a bottle with a cheerful pop, the hiss, and glug as it hit the sound of glass.

He did not need to glance in the direction of the sound to know that it was another one of the Pierrot, though he was not entirely certain which member it was.

There was a soft, almost eloquent “Ah,” and Uta blinks blearily shifting on what he realizes is a sofa, though it has a faint, almost perfumed scent.

Opening his eyes, he fights the urge to whimper at the painful sensation. It is like the worst hangover he has ever had, headache and nausea mixing together in a cacophony of sensations and lights. Holding his eyes open and gazing at the fluorescent light is too much, and for a moment he sees bursts of color in the back of his skull, metaphorically, or maybe physically.

He inhales sharply, raising a hand to his eyelids, and presses against them, hard, until he sees a few stars, sparkling and dancing along the edges of his sight

“How long I been out?” He mumbles. His voice sounds almost delirious, thick, and foggy. Tongue passing over the roof of his mouth for a moment, Uta can taste the metallic rust of dried blood in his jaws. It is never as satisfying the morning after, he only feels the tinge of regret clinging to his teeth.

He tries not to feel too much shame at the neediness he had felt towards wanting Donato near him.

He’s not as successful as he’d like.

“A while,” comes a silken voice.

“Thanks,” He sneers, “Really clears it all up you know.”

“No idea what Roma-Chan sees in you, almost like a common thug, aren’t you, U-Chan?”

When he tilts his head towards the voice, he is slightly surprised (and if he’s honest, disappointed) to see none other than Nico in some garish silk shirt, casually sipping what looked like blood wine, though the bubbles perplexed him.

Nico was another one of the Clowns, higher ranking than Uta was now. Nico was a bit of a mystery to him, fetchingly dressed to the nines, and always ready with a witty retort for anyone or anything. He defied gender norms and maybe even gender roles and did so with pride. In truth, Uta admired this greatly, his self-confidence to go out into the world with nary a care about the opinions of others.

“You?” Uta murmurs, thinking of the voice the night before, the feeling of being hoisted somewhere else. He had been so needy, and he averts his eyes from the other ghoul rather quickly lest his shame is seen.

“Me, darling.” He says the word darling as if he is luxuriating in it.

He does not mention Uta’s faux pas, nor the uncharacteristic tenderness he had displayed.

Uta snorts, though inwardly he is thankful.

Nico’s house, though in the poorer areas of the fourth ward, was modestly stylish and clean, and Uta noted his boots by the door, and the careful way throw pillows are set to the side of the bed.

Grunting, he pushes himself up trying and failing to ignore the shards of glass in his head.

“Yamori’ll get suspicious,” Uta mutters, trying to return to normalcy with the other ghoul. They had never really been alone together, and Uta had been surprised by his kindness.

He was always surprised by the kindness of ghouls.

“Yamori-kun knows better than to be insulted by a thing like you, not my type. He offers a wink, then hands Uta a glass of blood wine.

“I added sparkling water,” he says by way of explanation when Uta raises an eyebrow at him.

_Sparkling water?_

_The fuck was that?_

Shrugging, Uta takes a sip. It’s pleasant and oddly crisp, cool and it makes the ache in his head subside just a little.

Nico takes a seat opposite of him on a plush, seventies style ottoman complete with shaggy white fur, and straightens, sitting cross-legged and affixing the ward leader with a knowing eye.

Uta stares back dolefully.

“What?”

“Ah to be young, and to have the first fit of passion that only we ghouls can give.”

Uta has never in his life thought about cannibalizing another ghoul as a fit of passion, hunger maybe, but most definitely not passion.

“Mm, yeah I’m sure eating other ghouls on a bender, is um, really passionate.”

Nico as always does not miss his sarcasm. Instead, he wags a finger just under Uta’s eye. It makes him dizzy and he quickly takes another sip of the wine, closing his eyes.

“Don’t do that,”

Nico clicks his tongue in disproval and Uta almost feels shamed until he cocks a black eye up at the other ghoul, who is smiling at him almost in the way a family member would.

“Such a thug,” he says, though his tone is fond. “You’re just at that age.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Uta mutters, but Nico shakes his head, the ghoul with the pearl earring.

Always a mystery and Uta wouldn't be surprised if he had a whole deck of cards hidden up his sleeve.

“What age?” He snaps, more force than he means to.

Nico though, only laughs, velvet and soft. “Ah, just being a teenager you know,” he flutters his fingers at the boy, “you’re feeling it, that deep desire to feed, to find the right person for you, impress them with your hunting skills.”

“You’re making me sound like a dog.”

“Us, humans, we’re closer to animals than we like to think, we have instincts after all you know.”

The only instinct that had really held any sway over Uta was the instinct to eat, to consume above all others, to be the one on top by any means needed. It made him ache at times.

“Not that,” Nico says as if he could read Uta’s thoughts, “Everything has to eat, even us. Can’t help that. But sometimes, a person calls to you, beyond any sense of reason, and it’s an urge so strong you can’t resist it. It’s worse in the teens.”

“Puberty?” Uta sneers, “Come on.”

“It’s different for us too, just like our diets,” Nico says not unkindly. “You’ll just know.”

“How do you know?” Uta snaps back. Something about the conversation was making him antsy, anxious, after all, the only thing he could semi-relate to the conversation was that intrusive thought of the pest of a fox. That urge that was there the night before though, had now subsided, and she was once again a pest in his brain.

_He **HOPED** Donato ate her._

_So there._

Then, Uta blanches at the childishness of his mentality.

“You just...know,” Nico says, tone wistful. He swirls his glass and takes a sip, looking lost in thought, for some reason, Uta did not think Nico was talking about Yamori.

The realization of something so personal felt uncomfortable, and Uta drained the remainder of his glass with a scathing sigh.

“Not possible.” He snips. Then blanches, even out loud sounding petulant and young. He was ward leader, couldn’t be so lenient now could he, even with himself.

“Love is always possible!” Nico says, looking as if Uta’d insulted his best pair of heels.

“Not that!” Uta resists the urge to roll his eyes, pleased when his fellow clown relaxes just a bit. “I just...”

The next part is mumbled into his hands and Nico raises an eyebrow.

“Mm, beg pardon?”

He had fully well heard.

“It’s just...I like guys.”

In truth, he hoped Nico would have at the very least, some advice for him, his foolish teenage angst.

Instead Nico’s mouth quirks with a shrug, “Can’t help who you like, sugar.”

Once again, Uta feels lost, adrift, and the petal of anger unfolds in his breast. Why did she have to show up, throw a wrench in the life that he had been nearly exactly comfortable with. He briefly thinks about how he can consume her himself.

But, before he can voice it, Nico is standing, shooing him away. “Now, go on with yourself, best you clean up that house of yours, shame you ruined such a pretty face,” but before Uta can retort, Nico is primping in the hallway mirror, applying a luscious pink lipstick to his mouth.

“Go on now,” he chides, “I have a gentleman caller tonight.”

Baleful, almost shy, Uta turns his head just as he opens the door, he wants to say thank you, but he can’t seem to make his mouth say the words. Nico’s smile, however, makes him hope that the other ghoul understands regardless.


	4. Conflicts of Charity

**Chapter Four - Conflicts of Charity**

After a quick trip to the store, Uta was greeted with the stench of death and sticky blood, and thus began the messy act of cleaning up his work from the previous night. He’s since changed into cleaning clothing, a black shirt with a few holes and loose harem pants, it would be okay if these clothes got stained. They were cheap, easily replaceable.

The body, now stiff and full of thickening blood is cut apart, stripped from the bones, and packaged into Tupperware. It would not be as fresh or pleasant to eat, and the smallest tinge of regret enters the back of Uta’s throat. The bones are separated into bags, to be crushed and scattered, anything unusual could go to stray animals. It had been a reliable enough system for him.

Sheets are torn, wrapped over the remainder of bone and inedible excess that will be disposed of beneath the tracks of Shinjuku station when it was dark and the train stopped running. Being a ghoul meant that he could dig beneath the surface of the tracks. He thought, almost proudly that he was becoming quite good at making his hunts nearly untraceable.

However, cleaning with bleach was another thing, wiping down traces of blood, and briefly cursing his own excitement when he had to clean the headboard of modern painting proportions. He hates the smell, acrid and cloying. He was almost certain that he could feel the vapors rise up into his nose to burn the delicate skin of his nostrils. It made his eyes sting too, brought back bad memories that he could only vaguely place in the odd between of sleep and nonsleep, late at night when the crickets would chirp, taking him into places he would rather forget.

It took a few hours, the sun high in the sky when Uta finally stopped, propping his hands up onto the edge of the bed and flopping down rather lazily upon it.

The coffee maker beeps cheerfully at him, though he has almost no energy to move forward and consume the freshly brewed pot. His bed, with its fresh sheets and flipped over mattress was clean enough, and Uta let out a soft sigh.

He tries not to, but he closes his eyes regardless of his own wishes, he lulls and drifts in the sweet tender space of both sleep and non-sleep. He can hear the sounds of ghouls outside, kids in the neighborhood playing, a few shouts.

The blonde ghoul dozes for a few hours, and when he finally comes to, he feels more rested than he has in weeks, rested and satisfyingly full. In Uta’s mind, it was more than likely the closest thing a ghoul-like them would get to heaven after all.

He moseys up out of the bed, humming something out of tune to himself as he turns on the coffee maker and allows himself the luxury of a warmed coffee pot.

However, it’s only upon pouring the cup that he notes the startling sound of growling and shouts just outside his window.

Uta doesn’t go outside right away, no. He simply pours his coffee and gazes wistfully at the black plastic bag of waste on the edge of the small side of his apartment. The coffee warms his pink chipped mug, and he sips from it carefully trying not to drag his tongue along the chipped edge. Though a ghoul’s had preternatural healing ability, it still burned like a bitch when it happened.

The noise outside is growing louder, a little too much for his sensitive ghoul. There’s the sound of a man growling, yelling obscenities, and the startled rapid Japanese of a female. This was Shibuya though, and couples often fought in the lower-income areas of the district, Uta was no fool when it came to that kind of thing.

He busies himself with pouring another cup of coffee and takes care to fill it just to the rim, balancing it precariously lest he spills a drop. Uta is not sure if this is because of his own craving for the drink, or perhaps the fact that he most certainly does not want to go out into the courtyard of his apartments and face what is surely happening.

The yelling is louder, stomping, and it does nothing for his post-kakuja brain. He sips his coffee, just missing the chipped edge, however when something hits the glass of his freshly cleaned windows Uta swears sharply. His tongue dances over the dangerous edge of the cup, and he hisses when he feels the ceramic slice the inside of his tongue with nary a care for his poor tastebuds.

“Fucking ridiculous.” He swears, setting down the mug with much more force that is entirely needed.

Opening up his lose apartment door, he sticks his head out, quickly withdrawing it as a red slipper flutters mere inches past his head.

Without even glancing about, he knows who it is, and he shuts the door leaning his head back against it.

**That damned fox.**

Of course, it was her.

Could she just give him some peace? It’d be kind of her for certain. She seemed to keep popping up, especially around him.

All of a sudden, the vague memories of his strange obsession with her the previous night hit him, and the strange fluttering sensation in his stomach was enough to push him off the door and back to his mug of coffee.

Uta looks forlornly at the cup, noting the splashed bits of coffee marring his cleaned counter. The edges were drying leaving little rings of darkened color along the linoleum and he sighs.

Taking his lukewarm mug into his hands, Uta sips his coffee. He almost wishes that he could cut his tongue again, just to distract him from the oddly embarrassing memories.

It honestly should not bother him as much as it does, from the stories he’d heard, some from early childhood, and others were just urban legends from around the block, when a ghoul formed a kakuja, especially in the beginning phases, it was not uncommon to end up having odd fixations.

There was one story of a ghoul who’d been in the midst of forming a kakuja and had become so enamored with the scent of a lover, he would stalk any investigators who would end up exchanging their quinque until he’d finally gotten a hold of it to sleep with it near his bedside.

“Dumb,” Uta sneers, more to himself than anyone in particular.

There was nothing _special_ about her, no reason to focus too much on it. She was just a newcomer, and the fourth ward did not often get those. That was it, that had to be it. She was just something new, and that would fade.

The glass of his window clunks again, and he realizes it must quite simply be her other shoe, and he scowls magnificently. Combing a hand through his hair he debates.

He could ignore it to the best of his ability. He notes his sketch pad on the dining table, along with a Walkman. He could listen to some music and sketch, but as another shriek echos in his ears, he realizes that it’ll only be a matter of time before the little pest ends up throwing something else, and possibly breaking his window.

He heaves a huge belabored sigh, and pushes himself away from the counter, though he takes the time to carefully wash and put away his mug.

Uta steels himself mentally, offering a grand sigh, and opens the door, stepping out into the bright afternoon sun.

However, before he can even make note of his surroundings, an earsplitting, hair raising shriek is what greets the ward leader in the courtyard.

Uta watches, almost semi-horrified as the female ghoul shrieks, bounding towards him with a startling noise. With the agility of a jungle cat, but the grace of a fish she leaps behind him, clocking his ear with the edge of her ankle. As expected, both feet are clad only in socks.

**Damned woman.**

“What the hell-” Uta snaps sharply, turning his head towards Maiko with a snarl, but she’s clinging to his jacket, pressing her nose against his shoulder. The other ghoul, Uta can tell by his scent that he is a supplier for the orphanage, though he’s clearly someone who had arrived after Uta’s own time there.

“What’s the issue, onii-san?” Uta asks casually, raising an eyebrow as he peers at the other male. He looks livid, face red, almost bloated with heat as he puffs, trying to catch his breath.

“Tha’ sneakin’ bitch!” He snarls, his tone guttural, almost uneducated. He sprays Uta with spittle and Uta tilts his head back. Maiko lets out another squeal, burying her face in his shoulder, and he clicks his tongue in disdain.

However, he’s no fool, and if he lets on that she is not one of them, he is certain she will die.

_Why do you care?_

The thought arises in the back of his mind, and he shakes it off, trying to deal with the problem at hand.

“She’s stolen food out of the store-room!” The ghoul snaps, “Skulkin about, took my meat right out from under me.”

Uta snorts, “Doesn’t sound like stealing to me, sounds like it was fair game.”

The ghoul growls at him, sclera blackening as he moves close enough to Uta to touch the tip of his boots with his own tattered shoes.

The affront itself makes him bristle, and the few ghouls lingering outside the apartments watch wide-eyed. He can hear Itori snicker in amusement at the sight, no one enjoyed a bloodbath better than she did.

“If you can’t protect your own food,” Uta says silkily, “Then what use is it to you?”

In most cases, it would apply well enough, though he was beginning to see that the little fox had a penchant for getting into trouble, and for stealing.

 _She even stole out of your stores,_ his mind taunts, but he breathes outwards, offers the other ghoul a smile.

“She’s a little thing, onii-san, sure she didn’t take too much if it's so much trouble, I can replace it from my own food stores, no harm right?”

Uta loathes the thought of giving the other ghoul food from his own horde, almost as much as he resents letting the little thief off the hook, even now as she was rubbing her nose on the fabric of his own tattered t-shirt.

**Gross.**

He can hear a few murmurs from the other ghouls in the courtyard. It was not often that Uta would offer to share from his own stores and to do so often carried a heavy price or debt to the ward leader. It was common knowledge among the ghouls of the 4th ward and even higher knowledge among the ghouls of the orphanage.

_**Uta did nothing for free.** _

Nothing was done out of the so-called kindnesses of his heart. In truth, the ghoul doubted he could even have a so-called heart, to begin with.

The other ghoul doesn’t seem pleased by this offer, and he opens his mouth to protest, but as he does so, the little fox bounds from behind Uta’s shoulder, either sensing the tension between the two or merely trying to make her escape.

The other ghoul, obviously sensing an opportunity as well, bounds off after her and Uta swears, loud. The other ghoul, as the sun gleams off his bald head, releases a rather brilliant looking Ukaku, and fires towards her.

To Uta’s surprise, she bounds the advances away with the wide section of her kagune, deflecting it.

For a moment, Uta does nothing, simply watching the display with faint interest. Briefly, he considers lighting a cigarette, or even retreating back inside of his home, but that wouldn't do. He was, after all, their leader, and it was his duty to see all that went on, even if it did involve a thief and an idiot.

However, it is indeed unappealing. He watches the female ghoul with amusement. She has absolutely no finesse, though she is delicate, and light on her feet. Watching her, Uta can see the weaknesses.

She leaps up in the air in order to dodge an Ukaku firing, though elegant, she sucks at landing, nearly spattering on the pavement. For an instant, he fights the urge to laugh as she runs along the pavement almost on all fours, narrowly avoiding being hit again. Her tail seems to function as an almost rudder for balance, and if she could just refine her movements, she could be almost...beautiful

But, before he can shake the thought away, something almost miraculous happens. The bulb ended spot of her kagune seems to fall away, and Uta's eyes widened, wondering if she's indeed been hit.

The bulb though, seems to totter on the pavement, rocking to and fro before it moves rapidly towards him, stretching outward like a snake, and before he knows it, it has attached itself to him.

Her attacker has instinctively followed the movement, though he is too slow and cumbersome to stop himself as he launches towards Uta. His feet skid along the pavement, and unthinkingly, Uta reaches a hand outwards to grasp the other ghoul's face, crushing it like a piece of fruit beneath his fingers.

Blood spatters the ground, and the onlookers gasp softly. Uta only has to make a movement with his hand and they fall silent, watching with bated breath.

He thinks vaguely about ripping the bit of her kagune away from his body. It is pulsating and warm, trying to edge itself towards his kouhaku. He's strangely fascinated by its warmth, the sweet floral scent.

He would never say, but he _almost_ doesn't mind it.

Maiko is standing, tottering and Uta marches towards her. If it had not been such a strange situation, he would have felt a vague amount of pleasure at the widening expression and the near, very real fear in those grey eyes.

Grabbing her arm, Uta marches the two of them off towards the corner of his apartment. At his gesture, the neighborhood ghouls have reluctantly dispersed, though most of them seem to be a little curious about the show.

“What the fuck is this?” Uta hisses, disgusted as he points towards the pulsating red globule on the edge of his shoulderblade. It feels warm and he can feel it attempting to match its pulsating with the pulse of his own heartbeat. It is almost as if it wants to lull him into a false sense of security, and the thought makes him feel suddenly uneasy despite his previous thought.

“It’s my kagune!” she says, and for the first time, Uta can detect a sense of embarrassment in her tone. Her face reddens, the heat creeping up her cheeks and down into her neck and he blinks, surprised.

“Kagune?” he says. He can’t help it, his tone softens just the smallest amount at the sight of her.

His brow knits together at the sight of the thing attached to him, then glances at her tail, which she wrings beneath her fingers, a piece of the bulb is missing. She lets go then, allowing her tail to spread forward. To Uta’s surprise, the bulb blossoms open, not unlike a flower, revealing a striking eye design in the center.

This piece of her kagune seems to reattach itself to her, and she shrugs.

“Your kagune can detach,” Uta says softly, unable to keep the bewilderment out of his voice.

He’s never seen such a thing, it seems almost to be a mystery even to him. He reaches out as if to touch her kagune, then thinks better of it. She notices his hand reaching for her, and she retracts her tail away, fast.

So, she had indeed learned from their last encounter. It almost makes him want to laugh, and his mouth quirks up in an almost smile.

However, when he catches her eye, his mouth quickly turns upside down and pure indignation seems to rise heavily in his throat, acrid and bitter. This ghoul was an endless source of trouble, but, even he had to admit that she had her uses. This detachable kagune ability of hers was something he had not seen before.

Vaguely, he cannot help but wonder how it might taste, and he recalls the easiness with which he had ripped off the organ in the first place.

“I can’t..help it.” She says, by way of explanation, and her voice is small, almost embarrassed.

“It just…happens sometimes.”

Uta regards her, expression blunted, though inwardly his skin prickles at her tone. He realizes vaguely that he is much taller than her, and he peers down at her, finally crossing his arms, his leather jacket crinkling musically.

“What the hell’s with you stealing food?” he says. Though his words are harsh, his tone is level, even. If it had been an octave lighter, it would have been almost conversational.

“I’m hungry!” she says dumbly and he resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“No shit you little bandit.” He spits, “You’re a ghoul. Make like the rest of us, and get your own food.”

She looks unsure, scuffing the tattered toes of her mismatched socks together. The way she looks vexes him, that sheepish, unbecoming nature, the way her black fringe of hair hides her face.

**So annoying.**

“Look at me when I speak to you.” He commands suddenly. His voice takes on a timbre of commanding, of a ward leader.

Her head snaps upwards, and they stare at one another. Her grey eyes are wide, curious, but there is once again, no fear, only a faint sort of shyness that he doesn’t entirely understand.

_She’s weird._

He’s about to turn around, leave her be until he feels her hand clasp hard around his wrist. The strength of it surprises him and he whips around, almost snarling at the sensation.

“What?”

“You said you could give that other ghoul food.” She states. He can almost see the gears clicking and turning in her head, calculating.

“I’m not giving you food.”

He’s always a step ahead.

“I could pay you for it.”

“No.”

Uta yanks his arm away from her grasp. She clutches girlishly at her throat, gazing up at him. There’s no fear in her expression and Uta thinks vaguely that she is either unquestioningly brave or painfully, pitifully stupid.

“Don’t make me kick your ass again. I could tear you apart.” He says.

She reaches for his hand again as but instead, he grabs her wrist, squeezing just enough to be painful.

If he’s hurting her, she doesn’t show it or cry out, just stares at him with those big grey eyes, the same color as a rainy afternoon.

“I’m not good at hunting,” she says finally. It’s not said with any sense of ghoulish propriety or proper shame. Just said, like it’s a simple fact of her life.

“That sounds like a you problem,” Uta responds.

“You can’t just let me starve!” she’s trying the pity route now. It won’t suffice.

“No, I really can.”

Her mouth pouts, almost comically. If Uta liked her, it might have made him laugh.

“But it’s your job!” she says.

She’s trying another angle again, this fox and Uta blinks, almost bewildered by her complete and utter sense of impropriety. Jeez. If nothing else, the other ghoul had some serious gumption.

“My job.” He states flatly, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” she responds, her voice oddly chipper for someone in her situation. There it was again, the soft, almost subtle twang of her accent, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes at the sound, letting it reverberate between his ears instead. Dumb little thing.

“I mean, it’s a ward leader’s ah…responsibility to make sure their ward’s in good shape isn’t it? To take care of the ghouls who’re under your care.”

The thought itself was an oddly romantic notion, and this time, he does roll his eyes, clicking his tongue. “Nope.

Running a hand through artificially dyed hair, Uta sighs, shaking his head.

“Just where do you come from anyway? What a weird thought. Me, taking care of the useless ghouls here.”

Maiko doesn’t answer him, instead just watching him. Uta can’t really seem to tell exactly what she’s thinking, and for some reason, it honestly perturbs him more than anything else that had occurred during the force of the afternoon.

“The ward leader’s job is to keep the fucking peace.” Uta sniffs after a moment, unable to take her silence. “It’s not to feed you, or baby you, it’s to make sure no one’s tearing each other apart. If we make too much noise or make a scene, the doves come, and then we’re all screwed.”

At the word dove, she flinches, and for a moment, Uta can see the smallest hint of pain in her expression.

**His pupils dilate.**

**Good.**

“You’re causing tension around here with all your shit.”

She watches him with bated breath and he lets out a huff, “Gonna get us all fucking killed if you keep this up.”

Her expression is stunned at his statement, and for a moment Uta could swear that he could see the briefest welling of tears in her eyes. He’s fascinated, curious to see if this ghoul could actually even cry, and he leans closer.

She catches her own whiff of emotion too, and with a small animalistic snarl, she forces it away. Suddenly there is a wall between them, and she steps back, forcing distance between them, her previous open nature suddenly collapsing in on itself.

“Fine. Sorry.”

Pity, an irritating, bitter emotion seems to rise up in his throat, and his brow furrows.

He dislikes the sensation of her distance more than he disliked her closeness. Tilting his head downwards he taps his steel-toed boot for a few moments, deliberating. The other ghoul hasn’t left yet, she’s got enough sense to at least wait for a dismissal.

Finally, Uta heaves out an annoyed, overemphasized sigh.

“Come with me.”

Her head snaps up, lighting quick and he turns on his heel, moving back out into the clearing of shops. A few of the ghouls watch them carefully, however, a sidelong glance from the ward leader is enough to send them simply scurrying back to whatever mundane thing had held their interest beforehand.

“So, what’s yer name?”

Uta says nothing, allowing her to fall into step behind him though he does not allow anything more than that.

“I’m gonna call you Blondie!” She answers. She seems to have all but recovered from her bout of melancholy and Uta once again, can feel the offset of her openness like a gust of wind.

He considers telling her his name, but thinks better of it, deciding after a moment that it would be in his best interest to keep the little stalker Maiko at bay. She was vexing as hell, and he didn’t need any more annoyances.

They walk in silence, gravel crunching under their feet. Uta hears her sigh, then intake a breath, and then sigh again several times, and he knows she is trying to think of something to say to him.

Finally, she settles on something.

“Are we there yet?” Her voice is petulant, like a reedy child and Uta openly groans, pressing his hands into his eyes.

“Are you fucking serious?” He mutters.

“Yes?” She responds as if her question is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Am I still walking?”

“Ya, I guess so.”

“Then we’re not fucking there yet.”

She giggles and Uta notices that she snorts when she laughs, a further point of irritation on an already growing list.

“Where are you from?” Uta snaps suddenly.

It’s now that she chooses to become evasive again, and she slows her pace. Unthinkingly, Uta slows his own.

“Little bit o’ everywhere I guess.” She says.

Then, her tone becomes suspicious. “Why?”

“You talk really weird.” He states. It doesn’t occur to him until later that this might actually be offensive, and when the realization does come, slow and a tad cumbersome. The little blanket of pity is welling up into his chest again.

He spares a backward glance at the ghoul and is pleased to see she doesn’t look as let down as before. She glances up at the wide apartments and shops with an almost childlike curiosity, as if she has never seen a place quite like it, though to Uta there is nothing unique about it.

They’re making their way through Piss Alley with all its bustling shops, and he spots the familiar shopkeeper. He takes notice of the girl following behind him, and then catches Uta’s eye, giving him a nod and odd smile that he can’t quite place.

They duck past lanterns, and Uta watches her swiftly dodge a beer bottle as they take a shortcut down a small, rather dank alleyway to arrive at his hideaway.

She stops dead in her tracks and Uta moves towards the door with ease, casting a sidelong glance at her.

“Oh my god, are you going to fight me?” She asks, blanching at him. Her face has gone quite white and he blinks at her.

After a moment, he decides that she is indeed quite serious, and Uta scoffs, shaking his head. His blond hair escapes his headband and he brushes it back with a careless motion.

“Not unless you’ve been sticking your nose in here.”

“I haven’t,” she says, raising up a little hand, “Scouts honor!”

He rolls his eyes for what feels like the umpteenth time, and he inclines his head. When she seems to stay rooted to the spot, Uta sighs.

“Want food, or don’t you?” he asks, almost exasperated.

At the mention of food, she perks up like a giddy child and bounds over to him, stopping mere centimeters before him. She is close enough that he can smell body spray and her own faint floral scent, which Uta had since surmised was her own ghoulish smell.

When he opens the door, she gasps.

“What?”

“It’s like, real clean in here!” She says cheerfully bounding before him into the warehouse. Her tennis shoes squeak on the checkerboard tile and she almost falls over, inspecting her reflection on the floor.

Maiko seems to do a curious little pirouette and sticks her hips to the side, riggling them. It’s almost a little funny, and he allows himself the smallest smile. However, when she makes eye contact it fades rather quickly.

“You did a good job!” She says, beaming at him, “I mean I made a real big mess, and there’s no blood on the floor or anywhere!”

Without invitation, she leaps over to the freezer and opens it, this time, very neatly shuffling through the packages.

“By all means,” Uta says dryly, “Just go ahead and fucking help yourself.”

“Oh!” She startles, and the lid of the freezer slams shut causing Uta to wince. “Sorry...I just got excited.”

Uta waves a ringed hand noncommittally, “Yeah yeah, just pick out something so I can get back to doing my own stuff.”

Standing on her tiptoes, she digs neatly in the freezer, finally procuring a small package. She holds it between her hands as if she is holding something of priceless value, and makes her way towards him presenting the object.

Uta examines his own clumsy kanji, and he frowns.

“This what you want?”

“I think so!” She says, raising the corner of the paper to her nose, “It smells a lot like what you gave me last time I think!”

On the edge of his thoughts, Uta makes a quick note of her words. Like so many other ghouls, she must not be able to read complex kanji. He takes it from her.

“You want the heart?” He asks.

She beams at him again, nodding her head rapidly.

“Okay fine.” He says, waving her off, “Don’t get used to it. This is a one-time thing.”

She’s cradling the meat as if it’s a small child and he escorts her out of his hideaway.

For a moment she stands there, her eyes filled with an almost dopey adoration and his cheeks flush. Tugging fruitlessly at the collar of his leather jacket, he glares at her.

“Well?” He sneers, “Go home.

When she stares at him, food package tucked beneath her chin, he scowls.

“Where do you live anyway?”

When her first words to him are, “Don’t be mad,”

Uta raises an eyebrow, tilting his chin upwards almost empirically as he gazes at the female ghoul with growing apprehension.

“I promise I won’ bother anythin’!” She squeals as he advances on her, “I just kinda sleep on the rooftop of your hideout...uh...this hideout! But, I promise its only sleeping, and eating, and sometimes listening to records-“

“You’re the reason ghouls keep coming here?” He asks, voice dangerously low, he’s leaning so close to her, that their noses are nearly touching. His own emotions seem to be fluctuating from exasperation to amusement and then circling back around to his default irritation.

“You’ve been stealing food, and bringing it to the top of my hideout?” He hisses.

She smiles sheepishly at him, curling away from his advance.

“Sorry!”

He groans into his hands for a moment.

Just tear her head off and be done with it, his thoughts practically beg, but Uta straightens up as she speaks.

“I promise not to do it again!” She says cheerfully.

“You’d fucking better.”

“That is! If you’ll gimme a supply from your stash every few weeks.”

She’s going to be the _death_ of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!~ Thanks for your continued reading and support! I hope you're enjoying the story thus far! I'm trying to update at least once a week now, and I hope the pace is enjoyed! <3


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